Piecings from a Pictorialist: The Art of Rory Dean

Rory Dean at Blow Salon’s Fall Art Show 2014, August-November.

“The principles of true art is not to portray, but to evoke.” –Jerzy Kosinski

These days, with so many art-making tools at our finger tips be it traditional media such as graphite or paint, pen or film, or new tools such as the computer and all of it’s accessibility to information, ideas and manipulation, there is always the place of the mind and soul; of emotion, thought and experience.  Well executed art transcends its media and gets deep into us to become part of our memory, dreams, of who we are.  There is a special corner in Berkeley, California where such evocation is happening now that you shouldn’t miss:  A pictorialist’s perspective by Rory Dean.

At first glance Rory’s new work is obviously photographic yet perplexing as so many images and pieces intertwine to create reflections of experience.  Deep wounds and uplifting dances juxtapose yet flow with ease.  Photos of familiar places in San Francisco, the San Joaquin and Napa Valley blur the lines of reality as Rory blends colours and emotion with such vigor that you might think you just remembered that scene from your own dream just before waking this morning.  These real and imagined landscapes manifested from ecstasy and turmoil, draw one in for lengthy breaths and linger long after the return home.

Although these works are very technical in their execution, this is left behind as the viewer is invited in to not only contemplate what the artist went through during the creation but to bring their own experiences to the palette.  As inner-worldly as they are, there is a knowing that these pictures also inhabit the collective experience of humanity and this makes it work.  The art is as strange as it is accessible, such as with “Roads Within Chaos.”  At first glance I was drawn to it by the bursting colour that seemed like the moment of creation of the universe.

“Look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see, and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious.” – Stephen Hawking

Stepping closer I began to see familiar things like faces and eyes, purposeful shapes.  I thought I was imagining these as my mind tried to make sense of it, as I often do with abstract paintings.  However, I began to see dogs and perhaps eyes of wolves, fans and tables came into focus, and finally my own ideas and memories swirled around the starbursts along with the artist’s.  That instant it became mine as well as his and I knew that the next person who gazed at this would enter this world with us.  We would now always have this connection whether or not we had ever met.

That is what great art does:  Evokes and Connects us – to each other and to our selves.  If you happen to be in the strange land of Berkeley, I hope you take a moment to experience Rory Dean’s art and visit the even stranger land of the inner self.

Blood Roses website launch!

NOW LIVE!   New page for my comic series Blood Roses.

http://www.bloodrosescomics.com

www.bloodrosescomics.com

Once upon a time,many moons ago, I started a series of paintings that spilled over onto pages in ink and the beginnings of my comic “Blood Roses” manifested in print. As some of you know I’ve been working on the story again for the last few years and it’s been evolving into a graphic novel. Please visit/share/comment on my new site! There you will find drawings, insights into the story and creative process. You can also get updates directly from the star of the story, Donovan McCullough by sending a him a friend request on Facebook and on twitter @BloodRoses

Cheers!

 

In this place of water and dreams

pencil on bristol, 9×12″ MMXII
D and Vincent of “Blood Roses”

After two months of dreaming, one month of writing, one day of wine with pencil and paper, D has decided it’s time for an unofficial announcement that we are working on “Blood Roses” again!  This is a project I started in 1998, published 2000-2005 and suddenly stopped working on.  Well, I’ve suddenly started again, as some of you close to me already know.

For those of you who don’t:  This is a comic series I started quite a while ago.  My main character went out on extended holiday around 2005 and recently returned and I’m compelled, inspired, obsessed and working on it again.  I’ve got a lot of ideas brewing and today spent time with a drawing pencil instead of writing pen so I thought I’d share what happened.  I plan on doing a lot more new stuff along with creating a new web presence for the series, and will let you know about that when I can make it happen.  But for now: a little sketch for your dreaming pleasure.

Kitsune’s Glade 3

Comic strip #3 for Kitsune’s Glade.  Despite what all of her friends say against the idea of moving from her little country home to the city, Kitsune hops on a train and begins her new life.

Brenna’s Tree

Brenna’s Tree Ink on paper, 9×12 inches 2004

A sketch of a tree for a story from my comic, “Blood Roses”

Drawn in the late afternoon sun in Oakland, CA.

Kitsune’s Glade

Panel 1 for Kitsune’s Glade
(c)MKSmith 2003
Ink on Bristol

Miss Kitsune emerged from her den the other day:  This is a comic I started for my university newspaper.

I was contacted by one of the editors who had heard there was an artist in the program who made comics.  We spoke over the phone a few times about what this assignment would entail which turned out to be free reign for me and occasional deadlines.  Perfect in-between get away for me with the papers, projects, and Senior Editing position for an anthology comic I was managing going on!

So what to do?  I was still working on Blood Roses, which was/is a full comic book series.  I decided, or rather the star of that show “D” decided that he didn’t want to run a comic strip too.  So I thought about it and waited for that new spark of inspiration to settle on my page of bristol paper.  After a few days a fox in a cute dress ran through, leaving a trail of daisies behind her.  I thought this would be perfect and completely opposite of what I was already working on.  The fox thought so too.

So what was her story?  I had to start right away but didn’t see an epic unfolding in a week.  I thought about the stories I’d heard around me in my classes:  The common thread of students moving from other places despite all odds stacked against them in pursuit of their passion of art-making.  I thought this would be a good start for this new character to reflect what many of us were going through during school at the Master’s level.  I kept in mind my new, soon-to-be audience and after some chats with fellow artists, I decided that was the way to go.  And yes, so did the editor of the paper!

So here is Kitsune (Kit-su-nee) at the start of her journey from her country home to pursue life in the big city.  I’ll post more strips as I find them!  I’d love to hear any comments/feedback/response art/ etc. you may have.  Cheers!

Limbo by Rachael Portocarrero

Limbo

Artist: Rachael Portocarrero

Gallery:  College Avenue Galleries

Rachael’s portfolio

April 11, 2012

It was opening night, the galleries filled with the buzz of conversation and laughter.  I moved quickly through the four small galleries of California College of the Arts taking in the different atmospheres and looking for people I knew.  For the moment I was alone amongst all the people gathered and the art that had drawn us all together began to come more clearly into focus.  Each gallery’s artist was very different from the one preceding not only in media but in mood.  Great care was taken by these artists, all soon to graduate and go out into the world with their final projects swirling about, hopefully inspiring their futures despite the relief that the stress was finally over.

As I returned to Gallery 3, it seemed a quieter space than those surrounding it.  Tones were more hushed and the onlookers leaned in close to examine the details of large photos.  This collection of work, entitled Limbo, moves through body and spirit leaving the mind at first to wonder, “How did she do that?”   If you can let go of the technical, you just might lose yourself in the fantastic.  I was reminded of Chagall’s paintings of couples flying over cities, clinging to each other in love and dream.  These works subtly encourage the viewer to spend time with them and offer great rewards for patience.

The images presented in Limbo are figural:  they are either well grounded in preparation for flight or content after having just landed, with the rest captured magically defying gravity.  We are invited, even welcomed to witness this moment that is right in-between consciousness and dream, reality and the spiritual.  Ladies hover over ground like fairies; some float as if they are entering a dream and might disappear at any moment.  There is tension created since this is not something we see in our waking world yet is not threatening.  In this piece, it seems as though the floating figure has just left the ground and is somehow working out some problem in life, perhaps very spontaneously as just the right moment alone presented itself.

Here, high above the city, hazy afternoon light wraps around the figures enhancing the ethereal dimension.  It is a serene and safe place.  Although two figures share this space, it seems as though they could be one and the same person, suggesting some sort of other dream-self.  In this photo, there seems to be more tension between the figures and the viewer as if they would prefer us to stand back and observe then take our own journey after they have disappeared.

In contrast, there is a young woman who is sitting on concrete, toes just barely touching the grass who almost wants someone to join her as she prepares for flight.  She does not want to be alone, whether or not she’s taken this journey before.  She is one of the figures who helps to ground the whole show, quite literally in the space that we inhabit.  She sits quietly alone and I noticed she was often overlooked by a lot of the passers-by.  Her importance lies in that connection that we may be looking for to get us from here to there – the guide that can help us fly and better understand the journey to the space betwixt spaces, where time is as suspended as we might be.

“May you never run out of ink..”

I got up suddenly with no idea where I was going.  I played with the dogs, I did the dishes, I went back and forth down the hall.  Was I thinking of something? Was I supposed to do something?  I don’t know. So down I sit, back in my chair.  Up again and my old dog wonders why when I was just sitting so comfortably, at least from her view.

Tippy pondering

Back in my studio I find my wandering self, contemplating my shelf of blank and mostly blank sketchbooks.  They are hibernating; just waiting ‘til it’s time.  It’s not time but I pull out the big thick one that I know I’ve done some storyboards in but didn’t expect to find much.  My border collie keeps me in view as I open the book and flop the pages around.  He begins to scratch behind his ear but leaves his bright blue eye fixed upon me.

There’s cool stuff in this one I think, wondering if the dog can hear me.  I notice such a short moment in time that this book occupied my travel bag.   There is a complete story in there that I can’t remember what sparked it.  A little spark surrounded by winking fae twinkles in my mind to finish it… so long since I’ve done comics!  Another page flip opens to single drawings and I’m reminded of friends who were present at the table when I put those coloured pens to paper – now off and gone out into the world.

Bears like baths too.

I pause before turning the next page.  I see the dark ink peeking through the thin paper and dreams invite themselves back into consciousness and I wonder if the whispers I hear are for new stories or memories of old ones.  Me-thinks it’s a bit of both, time and space mixing itself all up together before my mind can pull it apart.  The page turn complete – and my world turns black and white but is far from simple… what were we thinking? What were we talking about?  Where does this story go?  What is this story?  Will you remind me because I don’t remember just now…  He just smiles because he doesn’t want to interrupt my typing.

Forgotten things found

The Remembrance of Leaves

The Remembrance of Leaves

Acrylic on canvas

III-III-MMX

Even if you don’t know what you are doing, Do It – then you can seek out you motivations; why you are doing it.

-separatio, calcinatio

I finally looked at it and could see something.  I saw and felt seperatio.  Even with all the fire, that is what I saw.  So I’m looking at the fire, which I couldn’t see.

“Fire is purifier and separator of the soul.”

Kenny and I regard this painting.

About the orange painting: There was some turmoil around Thanksgiving when I really did most of that one.  A friend showed her selfish, immature side in full force, picked a fight she couldn’t win, and hasn’t spoken to us for over a year.  Go figure.  I’m not giving you, gentle reader, details.  The whole stupidity of Christmas retail season was happening too and I was in the middle of being reminded that my life, now, is not my own.

I let the Cadmium fill the room with that particular smell / aroma it has, and it swirled over the old black canvas.  It was exhilarating, free, exciting.  It was mostly done after that coating and layers of paint.  Standing back and letting it reveal its mysteries to me, the animals began to appear.  Spirits flew around the soul house:  Fox dancing.  He came after the turkey-like bird, the one with peacock-like feathers.  Then the pheasant/peacock came forward.  She has a whole dimension above her head.  They remind me that Spirit is there, close, accessible, and is always offering a warm, safe home to come to.  The transparent layering reinforces this: that which is not evident to the casual viewer buy if you swill just stay a moment, listen to your breath, it will slowly become clear, like veils being lifted.  We need only pause to see what is there beyond the obvious.  Perception and relativity are key.

I-XXIV-MMX excerpt from painting journal.

IV. Mythologically speaking..

I admired delicate leaves in my coffee under a dark grey sky after pulling thorns from horses hooves.  It was a long night, and its 2pm now, somewhere.  The alligator wanted to discuss layers but I was distracted by a magician making a fake city of Alexandria to distract the Germans.  Thunderbirds fly here.  It’s amazing what you can see when vision is not clear.